It's Called Compassion
by JForward
Summary: UK Version, during Mitchell's madness, Series 2. Mitchell decides to remove Owen from the equation.


_**It's called Compassion.**_

_I do not own Being Human. This work is produced non profit for the free enjoyment of others._

_At the end of series one, we see Owen talking to Kemp. He wants to know if the facility he is in is safe. Can anything break in ... what if Mitchell decided that he didn't want Annie's killer around - with finality? This is that story. _

She was so naive and beautiful. So, so beautiful; he watched her as she moved around the house, he had done for all those months, in that lovely pink house... he felt a dark, snarling surge in his stomach. Daisy had gone off to pursue someone she wanted to destroy, so he was left alone, and now he was edging on hungry. He should go get someone to eat, but still he didn't move, leaning against the comfortable headboard of the hotel bed... his tongue flicked out, dampening dry lips. _Annie. _She was lovely, beautiful, so much more than Daisy, and as his eyes slid closed he imagined himself wrapping his arms around her waist, the cool floatyness of her ghostly skin, the faint but not really there scent, if he could sink his teeth into the thin skin of her beautiful neck- he jerked out of his half dreams and got to his feet. Eyes flickered around, then darkened for a moment, as he grabbed a notepad and the complementary biro.

Gone Hunting. – JM

His untidy scrawl was left on the pillow where she'd be sure to find it, and he left, sliding the keycard into the pocket of his jeans as he left to get someone to eat. He had to focus to keep his eyes human, the hunger churning in his stomach, grinding, and everywhere he could smell blood and hear pulses. His teeth slid into place silently as he headed around a corner, where some teenager knocked roughly into his shoulder. He felt the hand in his pocket, scrabbling for his wallet, and his own hand wrapped around the boy's throat as he slammed him against the wall. There was a scrape and the boy gasped, eyes widening as a trickle of blood ran down the brick. Mitchell's witty comment failed on his lips as he hissed and lurched, sinking the long canines into the flesh.

They were deadly sharp, edges naturally honed like razors, and slid into the flesh with a sensation like a soft pop, as if breaking into a plum, and the blood rushed to his mouth, flooding willingly, forcing its way through the two holes. As much of it that went into his mouth began to run down the side, splashing both their clothes, and Mitchell had a soft thrill as he felt the blood cooling against his skin, the shirt sticking to his flesh. The fight that had been put up at first, the squirming and twisting was now gone, the body going weak as the last of the blood flowed out, Mitchell now having to suck on the wounds to bring it up, ripping the throat widely. He'd been drinking for almost five minutes but it passed in moments as he licked the sticky sweet substance from his lips, letting the body buckle sideways.

__He trembled slightly as he looked down at himself with a frown; he'd wanted to make more sport of it, make it a game to kill, but the vampire had to be pushed, stressed... he closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply, striding toward the hotel – a scummy place. No one would question the bloodied shirt as he opened the door, toward his stairs; and his thoughts began to drift toward Annie as he stepped into the hot spray. Then a thought came now unbidden – _Owen. _That piece of scum, that person ... that monster far worse than him, far worse than he would ever be. He felt his eyes blackout in rage and considered, slowly, the worse death he could imagine for the man. A dark smile emerged, revealing his fangs, and he laughed lowly, as he clicked the water off. Stepping out into the cool of the room, he let his head flop back and laugh.

He didn't change the note; it was suitable enough. Their hunt for Lucy would continue, and he would rip the skin from her flesh, he would tear her open for things worse than rats to devour – but right now his focus shifted. Beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, Annie. Every atom of his body shifted to her, focusing on her, locking on to _her. _He'd scared her before he left and that thought made him smile as he tugged clothes on again, clean, ready. His mind was clear, his hunger gone – strong, powerful. This was what he was, the essence of him was and would always be _vampire. _

Herrick had said the truth, those years ago – he was a shark, like a shark, when it scented blood it would not stop until it had hunted it down. That's what Owen was, no matter how many owls away, how distant or close, he was the blood, the poison in the water, and soon the shark would feast and the sea would be clean again. Mitchell suddenly realised that there was someone talking to him – he was about to unlock his car, and she wanted him to sign some petition or some shit. He forced himself not to retort rudely, a smile sliding in place, "No thank you." He got in the car and reversed quickly, forcing her to jump out the way as he began to drive, fast. There was only one place the fucker would go to, he was sure of it – the secure unit just outside of Bristol. It was a mental health institute, and he knew there'd not been an escape there for a long time. Where else would he be?

Mitchell drove hard and fast, but it still took him almost an hour; as he slid up it was dark already, and he could see the visiting hours were almost over. Taking a chance, he headed in, adopting a nervous appearance as he approached the desk. "Um, hi…" he murmured, and the woman looked up at him; fat, mid forties, her eyes lit up at the young rugged face and sexy accent. "How can I help you?" he wouldn't've been surprised if she purred at him. He had to try hard to keep his lip from curling in revulsion. "I'm looking for Owen, Owen Hind?" he said 'nervously', "I'm his brother, John Hind? I was told he's here, I…" he trailed off and smiled awkwardly, "They didn't tell me much, because I live so far away." The lady gave him a sympathetic smile, "He's in ward twenty-three, love, but I'm afraid visiting hours are up. If you come by tomorrow..?" he tried to look astonished and nod, "Alright, thank you. I'm sorry for being so late, but the flights… no harm done!" he gave a dazzling smile and left. As he got in the car seat, he relaxed, leaning back… now just to wait. He mused on getting someone to eat, but no – he wanted to be hungry. He wanted to enjoy this.


End file.
